


No second times

by MatrixCube



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Thieves, Barebacking, Blow Jobs, Boys in Skirts, Crossdressing Kink, Dirty Talk, Feminization, Flirting, Grinding, Humor, Lace Panties, M/M, Porn with a little bit of Plot, Pushy Bottoms, Riding, Scars
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-19
Updated: 2017-08-19
Packaged: 2018-12-17 10:17:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11849508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MatrixCube/pseuds/MatrixCube
Summary: Lance waves it off. “I get it, I’m irresistable.” He can’t be mad at Tall, Dark and Handsome, because he’s always been keen on guys like him – although he doesn’t look tall per se.“You’re quite full of yourself, aren’t you?” Keith asks, and Lance is positive that he just saw a twitch in the corner of his mouth.Maybe this guy isn’t so bad, after all. “There’s always room for one more, especially when a bed is involved,” Lance grins.Before he can get an answer, someone behind them clears their throat exaggeratedly, and Lance turns around. “Pidge! Hey, where were you? I lost you, so I—““Yeah, sure,” Pidge cuts him off, “You had your fun for today, let’s go.”“Actually...” Looking Keith up and down, Lance decides what to do. “Actually, I didn’t have any fun yet."





	No second times

**Author's Note:**

> Ayy, I'm back with year-old content I never bothered to upload. This time an AU for a major ship, even though my strong suit is probably rare pairings. (And a massive thank you to everyone commenting on them!) Experience is a good source for writing. Also, PUHLEASE, use proper protection.

It’s kind of... high class.

Soft music trickles out of the speaker from the ceiling, and the lamps emit warm light. The shiny surfaces of the restroom reflect the sunshine coming through the high windows.

_Of course the city has enough money to refurbish places where people take a piss, but not—_

Lance tries to stifle his ire, and gets to work.

Nobody’s going to barge in so shortly after the exhibit’s opened for the day, so Lance takes his time and secretly admires the pretentious style of the National Museum’s restroom.

Focused on his reflection in the mirror before him, he misses his phone vibrating on the grey marble sink with a text from Pidge waiting outside.

Lance caps his concealer before putting on the hazelnut brown wig, fastening it with a few pins.

A last look in the luxurious mirror of the bathroom tells him that he totally rocks that messy-bun hairstyle. It underlines his natural look. (He didn’t bother with make-up today – he doesn’t go all out for a mere stake-out.)

He grabs his bag with the too long straps (‘It’s unisex suburb fashion,’ Lance has explained to Pidge more than once), and heads outside.

“You sure took your time,” Pidge grumbles.

“Well, _some of us_ don’t have to wear a disguise,” Lance shoots back, trying to change his voice a little; a bit brighter, a bit more upbeat.

“This shirt would look ridiculous on me anyway,” Pidge says. “I mean, is this even fabric or just a rag?”

Lance follows them down the hall to the entrance of the exhibit. “It’s supposed to look old! Many students walk around like that.”

“Whatever, we’re not here to argue about fashion, whatever I should call you now—“

“Miranda.”

“...Seriously, dude? The name of the girl from the _Orange Pop_ ad?”

Lance shrugs. “We got the same surname. She also does sex ed ads, did you know?”

“Okay, _Miranda_ , I’ve skimmed the brochure, and the stone’s in Hall C, on the east end.” Pidge leads them past portraits and framed pictures that cost more than Lance will ever make in his life, and are being admired by a few early-bird tourists.

Lance appears to be bored, but he tries to take as many details as he can; they went the first turn right, then straight ahead, high ceilings, one security guard per area at the doors, a huge-ass statue of a woman with no head, four visible cameras in the second room, a screaming child, the next turn right again, a fit guy who looks like a lost puppy— _Hello there._

“There’s an emergency exit in this very room, but you will have to drop down about 3.5 meters which won’t be a problem for you, I guess,” Pidge says, almost expecting a comment on how it will ruin his attire, but for once in his life, Lance holds his piece. “They will most likely block all access roads, so I will have to navigate you from there... Hey, are you listening, Miranda?”

Pidge turns around, only to see that Lance is gone. Their brow twitches in annoyance, but before they can release hell, they spot Lance at the exit of the hall, chatting up a stranger.

Of fucking course.

“Got ditched, huh?” Lance says, trying for a compassionate tone.

The fit guy just notices him this moment, looking a bit out of it. “Uh, yeah, I guess...”

Lance nods, his hair bouncing slightly. “That sucks. But the day’s still young, soooo... I’m gonna invite you to a drink in the food court here, so you didn’t waste your time standing around for nothing, how does that sound?”

The guy stares a Lance, probably amazed at this too generous offer. “Why would you—“

Grabbing his arm, Lance turns his charm up a notch. “I told you, didn’t I? And I know how you feel, I just got dumped, too, and a sweet lemon soda has always picked up my mood,” he chatters, taking the fit guy in his ridiculous red biker jacket with him.

When they take a seat in the courtyard in the middle of the complex, Lance orders two lemon soda, and crosses his legs, so the fit guy can get a good view of them. (He waxed them today, and watched two episodes of this new cartoon while fondling his calves, because they are so. Smooth.)

“Have you been here before?” Casual conversation. Lance knows how to do that.

The fit guy leans back in his seat, crossing his arms. “Not really. Didn’t have the time.”

“Yeah, me neither; I’m from around here, but nobody visits the local tourist sights where they live, right?” Lance laughs.

“I... guess.”

Their waiter comes back with their drinks, and Lance revels in the sweet flavor of the first sip. He looks over his glass to his date who eyes him warily. Why the sudden mistrust?

(Maybe Lance stares a moment too long at him – he’s handsome, even with that scowl on his face. Okay, he also really needs a haircut.)

“Why are you doing this?” Handsome guy raises an eyebrow.

Lance hums and puts down his drink. “...To cheer you up?” No reaction from the guy opposite, and Lance sighs exasperatedly, dropping the pretense. “This is called ‘a date’. Never been on one?”

The way the guy looks even more scowl-y, Lance’s probably right. Who didn’t have a date his age? He’s around Lance’s age, so why—

“I don’t date women.”

Okay, that explains it.

Actually, Lance has to be exhilarated by now; he doesn’t have to pretend around the hot guy he wouldn’t kick out his bed, and it minimizes the problem of being kicked out himself after revealing he doesn’t have female parts.

But right now, Lance is pissed.

“Are fucking kidding me,” Lance says, his voice dropping to his normal pitch. “Why did you go with me in the first place?”

At least the stunned look on the guy’s face is worth it as he puts the pieces together. “W-wait a second—“

“Yes, I’m a guy dressed like a woman, Mr.Observant,” Lance gripes. At least his disguise and act have been on point.

He still stares at Lance as if trying to find any indication that Lance is telling the truth. (Lance takes pride in his flawless handiwork.) Then, he stares down crossed legs sticking out of a short skirt.

“Like what you see?” Lance quips, but it comes out a bit too sharp. He steels himself for an insult or degrading commentary. (That’s the reason why he usually doesn’t break character.)

“...You shaved your legs.”

Great, now he comes up with dumb observations about Lance’s appearance. Lance groans inwardly and stands up. “Yeah. Lemme tell you, you really need to work on you pick-up lines, man.” He will leave the bill to him, and look for Pidge. “See you around—“

A hand on his arm cuts him of and forces him to a halt. Lance looks down, and almost laughs at the stupid fingerless gloves.

“Keith. My, uh, name’s Keith, and I’m sorry if I crossed you.”

Okay, that’s new. Apologies are not what he’s expected. Lance raises an eyebrow at this Keith guy who tries his hardest not to look at Lance’s legs. “And?”

Keith glares at him, his fingers digging into Lance’s skin. “Are you always this rude?”

“I’ve been perfectly polite,” Lance says, a bit miffed. “If you just wanna keep ogling me, I’m outta here.”

A slight blush creeps on Keith’s face, and Lance chalks it up as a win. Score for Lance The Great.

Keith takes his hand off Lance’s arm, awkwardly moving his hands as if he doesn’t know what to do with them, so he crosses his arms. “...Sorry.”

Lance waves it off. “I get it, I’m irresistable.” He can’t be mad at Tall, Dark and Handsome, because he’s always been keen on guys like him – although he doesn’t look tall per se. (But it’s hard finding someone who’s actually taller than him, Lance knows from experience.)

“You’re quite full of yourself, aren’t you?” Keith asks, and Lance is positive that he just saw a twitch in the corner of his mouth.

Maybe this guy isn’t so bad, after all. “There’s always room for one more, especially when a bed is involved,” Lance grins.

Before he can get an answer, someone behind them clears their throat exaggeratedly, and Lance turns around.

And his heart squeezes in fear, an apology ready on the tip of his tongue. “Pidge! Hey, where were you? I lost you, so I—“

“Yeah, sure,” Pidge cuts him off, obviously not buying his bullshit, and both of them know it. They regard Keith with a small nod, and cross their arms. “You had your fun for today, let’s go.”

“Actually...” Looking Keith up and down (this guy probably lifts or something like that, and fuck, Lance loves the flat plane of his stomach under Keith’s black shirt), Lance decides what to do. “Actually, I didn’t have _any_ fun yet,” he leers, and snickers when he sees Keith stare at him with round eyes.

Pidge stifles a groan and settles for rolling their eyes instead. “ _Fine_. I guess I’ll see you around, then?”

“Sure, I’ll call you.”

Keith is being taken by his arm again, and dragged to the counter to pay for their drinks, leaving Pidge behind. “Uh, does that mean, you—“

Lance pays the bill with a fine tip, because he feels quite generous now; this is gonna be a good day. “Get with the program, Keith. We’re heading to your place.”

The ride on the train is quite uneventful with Lance tapping away on his phone, and Keith still staring at him and trying to process what just happened. Lance steals glances at him, and every time Keith has a different facial expression; it’s quite amusing.

“Getting cold feet there?” he asks, looking up from a list he’s been working on.

Keith scowls. “No way.”

“Hmm hm. Sure.” Lance smiles knowingly, looking at the screen of his phone again. He still has to send Hunk the list of material he needs.

His comment makes Keith scowl even more, and Lance enjoys riling up that guy more than he should.

“...What’s your name anyway?”

Oh, right. He didn’t give Keith his name yet, did he? “You can call me anything you want,” Lance says, but Keith just gives him an unimpressed look. Well, it was worth a shot. “It’s Lance.”

Something akin to a genuine smile appears on Keith’s face, and Lance is shocked for a second. “Nice to meet you, Lance.”

Thankfully - before they can become awkward - they have to get off the train. Lance follows Keith through the streets, always half a step behind him, so he can take in his surroundings. Force of habit.

When they climb the stairs of an older apartment building, Keith seems to get the nerves, but Lance keeps calm – he’s got Nerves of Steel, and not only during One Nighters.

“Sorry, my place might be... messy,” Keith says, fumbling with his keys to open the door.

Lance chuckles. “Don’t worry about that, I hope I’ll be too occupied to notice.”

Keith mumbles something under his breath and opens the door to a small apartment with the curtains drawn. There’s lots of stuff lying around; personal belongings, books, and cutlery (probably from last night’s dinner).

It has _single_ written all over it.

“Do you want anything to d— _unnnf!_ ”

Taking the opportunity of Keith letting his guard down, Lance captures his lips and presses him against the closed door. It’s not an open-mouthed kiss (not yet), but just as insistent.

Lance can feel Keith’s quite prominent biceps under his fingertips, and boy, does it give him ideas.

“Okay, I’m clean as day and I know I’m gonna ride the fuck out of you,” Lance says as he pulls back, his pulse quickening at his brilliant impromptu plan. “Any objections?”

And for once, Keith is keeping up with him. “Hell no,” he breathes, reclaiming Lance’s mouth in an open kiss.

Lance sweeps his tongue across Keith’s lower lip, and he gets a soft moan out of him, making Lance grin into the kiss.

“I’m clean, too,” Keith says, pressing a leg between Lance’s thighs.

At least that guy isn’t a complete virgin – Lance knows by now that he doesn’t get off on deflowering anybody. He humps Keith’s thigh with small thrusts, and can see the way Keith’s eyes are glued to his crotch, watching how the fabric of Lance’s skirt rides up and down.

“You like that, huh?” Lance grins, his breath a bit more laboured, because the friction on his cock is just delicious. “Any other kinks I should know of?”

Keith blushes slightly as if caught. “I... I really like the skirt.”

It’s almost cute how Keith has trouble admitting it, but Lance won’t tease him for that. “Anything else?” He’s almost hard already.

“...Can you take the wig off?”

Keith is obviously gay, so it makes sense that he wants to see Lance for the man he is – thank god he didn’t bother with any breast pads this morning.

Lance gestures him to lead the way, taking out the pins from his wig. His eyes take in the moving muscles under the black fabric of Keith’s broad back. (No, he’s not drooling. Not yet.) Throwing his wig onto the sofa in passing, he follows Keith into the small bedroom with the blinds down.

Little light pours through the blinds onto an unmade bed. Lance notices the bottle of lube on the bedside table, and grins. “Got fun last night?”

“My right hand’s doing overtime,” Keith murmurs, taking off his pants. “So no, not really.”

Lance ruffles his flat hair with his right hand, watching Keith’s almost perfect ass intently as he shimmies out of his pants. (He’s wearing black briefs. Fitting.) “I can help you with that.” Keith turns around and places his hands on Lance’s hips, just above his skirt. “You want me to take it off?”

“No,” Keith says, brows furrowed. It seems like his frown is some kind of default state. “...If that’s okay with you.”

“I’m totally on board with that,” Lance chuckles, pressing closer.

Keith’s body is warm against his, a solid wall of muscle and warmth. Lance could melt into it.

An open-mouthed kiss to his neck makes Lance’s knees go weak for a second. Then he can feel a tongue and teeth against it, and he tilts his head to give Keith better access.

A wandering hand travels down his backside, and slips under the skirt. Keith breaks their kiss, surprised. “Are you wearing _lace?_ ”

Lance gives him a sly smile. “I’m thorough with my work,” he lilts, and grinds his ass into Keith’s hand. “And it makes my ass look fantastic when I bend down.”

Keith still tries to take in that info (or fantasizes about the Lanass framed in white lace), so Lance takes the next step into his own hands; he’s backing Keith into the bed behind him, pushing him down, so he can straddle his narrow hips.

God, Keith’s shoulder to hip ratio is making him drool. Maybe he should take a picture of that guy laying beneath him with a slight blush and oh so wanting eyes.

“But the best about these panties,” Lance purrs, leaning forward on his right arm next to Keith’s face, “is how amazing they feel against my cock.”

Keith’s fingers dig slightly into Lance’s thighs, just beneath the hem of the skirt. “Do... do you wear them often?”

Lance takes a bit of satisfaction from making Keith stutter. “You’d like to know that, hm?” He straightens to pull the shirt over his head. “Pervert.”

Eyes wander over the not so flawless skin of Lance’s chest. He’s never mind the moles he has, but he doesn’t like the scars. There’s a bigger one near his left armpit where a parachute had entangled him like a tentacle monster, and left him with less dignity and a nasty rope burn after a hurried escape. The other one—

“Is that a scar from a gun shot wound?”

Lance is used to people asking about the ugly scar next to his belly button, but no one ever identified it correctly before. Shit.

“...Yeah,” he just says, trying to quell the adrenaline of surprise. How does Keith know?

A warm thumb rubs over it, and Lance notices that his gloves are gone. (Pity. They would’ve felt interesting on his sensitive cock.)

Keith sits up, his breath ghosting over Lance’s taut belly. “Don’t worry, I won’t ask.”

Lance, not sure what to do with his hands for once, puts a hand over Keith’s. “Thanks.”

It’s almost too sappy, too intimate for Lance who knows shit about Keith besides his name and that he likes him better smiling than frowning, so he does what he always does; joke around to lighten up the mood.

“You wanted me to keep the skirt – so I’m naked. You wanna keep your shirt on?” Lance snickers. “Bet you are shy, because we’re having sex in the middle of the day.”

And it does get more of a rise out of Keith than he expected. “I’m not some kind of blushing virgin,” he growls, his hands wandering up to Lance ass to grope.

Lance escapes an amused sound that turns into a moan. Those strong hands feel good, and involuntarily thrusts his hips down. Of course he knows how it must look like – his erect cock tenting the fabric of his skirt, his movement making it swing a bit. And all of it at the height of Keith’s face.

There can’t be a better invitation than this.

But Keith doesn’t lean in like expected. Instead, he hooks his fingers into Lance’s underwear, slowly tugging it down.

Lance can feel it catching on the head of his cock, pressing down, and he sinks his teeth into his lower lip. He’s sure that Keith knows what he’s doing, because he’s doing it so fucking slow.

“Tease,” Lance breathes, shifting a bit so the fabric slides over his cock, and Keith pulls the panties down to his knees.

In the dim light pouring through the darkening blinds Keith can see that the panties are smeared with precome. “Says the impatient one,” he teases back, stripping the panties over each of Lance’s legs. They are discarded somewhere on the floor.

Lance laughs, and buries his hands in Keith’s stupidly cut hair. “Of course I am, I mean, I caught myself a ridiculously hot stud with a short temper. They usually promise a good hard fucking I’m looking forward to.”

Keith draws his head back to look up at him with a flat look. “Did you just call me a ‘hot stud’? What are you, fourty?”

“But you don’t deny the ‘good hard fucking’ part? Good. I almost worried that you wanted to take it nice and slow,” Lance grins.

Rising to the challenge, Keith grumbles, and leans in, _finally_ , to lick at the wet spot of the skirt right over Lance’s cock.

It feels nice, but it feels even better when Keith lifts the skirt, and licks up the length that is proudly jutting into his face.

Lance takes a deep breath. He hasn’t recieved a BJ in a long time, mostly because it doesn’t get him off as well as other stuff. Not that he doesn’t appreciate it, no, he loves having a warm mouth warming his cock. It’s just—

When Keith’s mouth closes around him, it pushes every thought out of his mind at once. “Fuck...”

Lance tries his best to keep his hips still as Keith works his tongue and sucks at the head, but his breathing speeds up, and his hands grip tighter in Keith’s hair.

“So good... _Keith..._ ”

The hot mouth is engulfing him now without drawing back, and it takes Lance a moment to realize that Keith tries to deepthroat him slowly. Wet lips almost touch his pubic bone when Keith stops.

Keith looks up to him through his fringe, mouth spread obscenely, his checks red.

It makes Lance swear under his breath, and he tugs at Keith’s hair to stop himself from thrusting. Keith hallows his cheeks and sucks, and _fuck_ , Lance can feel his cock throb as Keith pulls off.

Keith is breathing hard, but he seems satisfied. “You close?”

Lance licks his lips, and tries to calm down a little. “Fishing for compliments? Didn’t take you for that kinda guy.”

“I just wanted to make sure you last,” Keith says, pressing a kiss to the head of Lance’s cock. “You promised to ride me, right?”

Of course he remembers, and Lance still wants it more than anything, but he likes poking fun at him too much, so he raises an eyebrow. “I did? Can’t remember.”

Apparently he was very convincing, because it throws Keith off his game. “You said it just ten minutes ago,” he said, frowning (again).

“Where’s your proof?” Lance smiles, lowering himself down onto Keith’s lap. He can feel his erection against his thigh; he shifts so he can press his own against the straining fabric of Keith’s briefs to gather some friction.

Keith gasps at the feeling, trying his best to glare at Lance, but fails miserably when he starts rocking his hips.

Taking his silence as an answer, Lance grins smugly. “Thought so.”

They grind against each other with urgency – too soon too breathless to talk, and Lance enjoys every second of it.

“Think you can— _haaah_ , you can come from this?”

“Put in some... effort, and maybe I can,” Keith groans, trying his best to match Lance’s rhythm. Truth is, he’s close, but he doesn’t want to give Lance the satisfaction of coming so soon.

Lance chokes out a laugh. “Competitive, aren’t we?” he asks against Keith’s lips, his hot breath tingling, before kissing him.

Keith moans into it when he feels teeth against his lips.

“Okay, we can come like teenagers rutting against each other,” Lance says hastily, “or you can open me up and we fuck.”

Slowly processing the options, Keith stills in his movements. Of course he wants to fuck, but where did he leave the lube...?

After some scrabbling for the lube on the night stand, Keith opens it with shaky fingers.

Lance rises to his knees again, hooking his arms around Keith’s neck. Anticipation runs through his veins, and he closes his eyes in bliss when he feels a cold, wet finger rubbing at his hole.

“Please tell me you’re into dirty talk, because I really want you to open me up with your fingers and tell me how wet I am,” Lance whines, re-adjusting his stance so his knees won’t hurt.

Keith watches Lance’s face intently when he slips the first finger in; there’s no pain or anything showing on his face. Good.

“You want me to tell you what a good girl you are?” he asks, and tries not to read too much into it.

Saying that with his low voice shoots right into Lance’s groin. “ _Fuck, yes._ ”

Even though dirty talk isn’t something he needs, just seeing Lance unravel like this makes Keith even harder than before. He drinks in the broken sound Lance makes when he enters a second finger and presses against his prostrate. Hell, he’s never had such a vocal and chatty partner before.

“C’mon, more, you won’t break me,” Lance demands, meeting Keith’s fingers on their way in.

When a third finger slips in beside the other two, Lance groans lowly in appreciation. It feels so good to be on the recieving end again. He usually picks up girls who just lay back, because they are the easiest to approach and convince.

The spot on his skirt is growing, but Lance doesn’t care. The 55 percent silk skirt is already ruined, but it’ll be worth it as soon as Keith will hurry up and get his game on—

“You think you can take another finger?” Keith asks, applying more lube with his unoccupied hand.

Lance stares at him with his eyes blown and tries to grin. “Did you really just ask that?”

Taking it as permission, Keith carefully presses in his thumb, earning a high-pitched keen from Lance.

“Look at how good you’re doing... You’re sucking me in, and god, you’re so wet down here,” Keith murmurs against the skin stretching over Lance’s lowest rib.

Fuck, he’s so turned on that he clenches around Keith’s fingers. “ _Shit_ ,” he gasps breathlessly.

“You like that?” A whimpered nod. “Heh, you really need it bad, huh?”

Lance nods so hard that his teeth click, and Keith feels a bit overwhelmed how this – he – is making Lance into a moaning mess. He never had someone this responsive in bed before.

“Okay, I think you’re good to go,” he says, slowly pulling out his fingers, but not without pressing against Lance’s prostrate again.

A muttered curse escapes Lance. He swallows and tries to regain some of his posture while Keith pulls the elastic of his briefs over his cock; he can’t take them off without both of them standing up, but he seems okay with that.

“Lean back a bit.” He holds onto Keith’s shoulder for leverage and also to support him, but Keith’s flexing abdominal muscles tell him that he can hold himself for a few minutes.

Lance raises an eyebrow. “You work out a lot, huh,” he says, grabbing behind him for Keith’s cock so he can finally, _finally_ take him. 

“Comes with the job,” Keith shrugs. His gaze is fixed on the apex of Lance’s thighs and his own erection between them.

When Lance sinks down, his mind is a mess of thoughts between _yes yes yes_ and _what job?_ and _does he really have a mullet_ , but what comes out of his mouth once he’s seated in Keith’s lap is: “What’s that?”

Keith (who had to bite his lip, because fuck, how can this guy just take a cock in one go like a professional) blinks at him in confusion. “What?”

Lance leers. “Keep up, or did I blow your mind?”

“...You wish.”

The first tentative thrust wrings a moan out of both. Lance raises himself up, clinging to Keith’s shoulders before sinking down again, and god, this feels so good after a long dry spell.

They find an easy rhythm that has Lance sighing in bliss. He wants to drag this out as long as possible.

Keith stares at the skirt like he’s hypnotized, which spurs Lance on to roll his hips every time he’s sitting down. There’s hunger and awe in his dark eyes, and Lance thrives on this, wants to do this for as long as Keith is looking at him like this.

Too bad that Keith shifts slightly and unintentionally hits Lance’s prostrate dead on – a rush of lust makes Lance groan into Keith’s ear.

“ _Haah_ , right there...”

“Thought so, you’re squeezing like mad,” Keith says, voice strangled. “Fuck, I’m close...”

Lance’s thighs are shaking a little. (Man, he’s so out of training.) Before he can think about picking up his running schedule again, Keith captures his mouth and all but ravages it, and he’s a goner. His orgasm rolls through his veins, and his mind feels detached for a moment.

“Nnnhh....”

Their movements slow down, because Keith doesn’t want to fuck Lance while being over-sensitive. He’s not a brute.

“Everything all right?” he asks softly, cupping Lance’s face.

Lance nods with a dopey grin. “That was great,” he says. “But you can make it amazing by coming inside of me.”

Keith can’t believe him, staring at Lance, although his own cock is totally on board with that idea. “You sure?” he asks against Lance’s lips.

“ _Yes_ ,” Lance lilts, before kissing him. “I know you need to come, and I want you to fill me up.”

“God, your mouth,” Keith says under his breath. He never had someone this crude yet intoxicating in his sheets.

His shallow thrusts become more and more fierce, and his hands are digging into Lance’s hips, supporting his movements. He feels tense, on edge, and all he wants to do is snap.

“Come on, Keith, mess me up,” Lance breathes against his ear. “I’m still so wet for you, can you feel it?”

Hell, of course he can – Keith grunts and buries himself deep inside Lance before he comes so hard he bites down into smooth, freckled skin.

Lance whines from the pain and the fact that Keith is coming inside of him; his half-hard cock twitches, but he can feel the warm wave of a dry orgasm rushing through him.

“—Fuck.”

Panting, Lance chuckles. “Indeed.” (God, he just came two times within a matter of minutes.)

Keith shoots him a flat look at the overused joke, and inspects the spot where he bit Lance’s neck. Good, he didn’t break skin.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, just pull out slowly, will you?”

Lance makes a face when Keith pulls out and his come trickles out of him; he can never decides whether he likes it or not.

“I’ll get a towel,” Keith says and stands up to leave.

Of course Lance watches Keith’s backside as he makes his way to the bathroom, well, who wouldn’t? His head is still buzzing with endorphines, but his mind is already thinking again.

He can’t stay. He’d like to, because a second round would be great, but he never can. His phone probably has a few messages and missed calls from his roomie Hunk who worries too much about his sorry ass of a leech. (His guilty conscience reminds him every now and then that he hasn’t paid Hunk rent for about three years now.)

He needs to get all his stuff and—

“Here.” Keith throws the wet towel against Lance’s chest.

“How romantic,” Lance gripes, takes the towel and cleans himself up the best he can without a shower.

Keith just rolls his eyes and rummages around his closet until he finds a suitable piece of clothing he can throw at Lance who catches it this time. “Take it, it’s too big on me.”

Pants. Black, of course.

“Thanks,” Lance says, a bit stunned, but recovers quickly. “Want to keep my skirt as a keepsake? You could start a collection.”

He quickly changes into the jeans and inspects the large stain on the silken skirt. He liked that one, but it was worth it.

“Hell no,” Keith laughs. “I didn’t even know I had a thing for this.”

 _Liar_. Lance smirks, putting the rest of his clothes on. “Or maybe you had a thing for me in it,” he lilts.

“Hm. Maybe.”

Wasn’t that romantic. Lance sweeps into Keith’s personal space to steal a kiss. “Thanks, Keith.”

There’s a bit of red on Keith’s cheeks. Cute.

“I’ll see you around.”

Lance grabs his wig from the sofa on his way out and doesn’t look back before the door closes behind him.

He won’t meet Keith again, anyway.

**Author's Note:**

> continuation from keiths POV when? spoiler alert: keith is a cop


End file.
